


Stand By You

by Scarlet_Streak



Series: Overwatch Songfics [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Civilian Reader, Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, POV Third Person Limited, Reader-Insert, Reaper Needs a Hug, Slow Burn, Songfic, Songfic is Chapter 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-30 01:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14485797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Streak/pseuds/Scarlet_Streak
Summary: When he first crashed through her window, she was terrified. But now, as time goes on, she realizes there’s no need for her to fear the Reaper.





	1. Chapter 1

She didn’t really have much of a choice the first time it happened. She wasn’t expecting one of the most wanted criminals in the entire world to come crashing through her apartment window, cursing under his breath and bleeding onto her floor. The Reaper was an imposing figure, even lying wounded in a pile of broken glass. Once he’d gotten up to his feet, he demanded help. He’d held one of his shot guns to her head until he couldn’t hold it anymore, but even then he didn’t seem afraid. Reaper knew he had control of the situation. He knew that the threat of Talon would ensure that she wouldn’t even think of trying to call anyone.

She guesses she must have done her job well, because he came back a few weeks later, clothes torn and bloodied. After a few more visits, it became a routine. She never asks how he got the injuries, never even speaks beyond the questions she needed to ask to help patch him up. He doesn’t say anything more than his short answers and orders, and he never takes off the mask or armor.

Most importantly, she never tells anyone about this strange arrangement, and she assumes he does the same. 

A few months after their first meeting, she’s sitting in her bedroom reading, when the thud of something solid hitting her front door echoes through the apartment. She’s almost completely positive who it is, and immediately gets up to answer it. As she opens the door, she’s expecting the familiar hooded figure to be standing there impatiently. She isn’t expecting that same dark figure to fall on top of her, barely giving her enough time to catch him and steady both of them. He’s so heavy that she almost can’t support him. When he speaks, his voice is a weak snarl. “What are you waiting for?” She takes that as her cue to haul him inside and close the door. Once it’s firmly shut, she tries to get back to their normal routine, helping him to couch. “What’s the injury count today?”

“Zero.” She looks at him in surprise. “But you’re—” 

“None of your business. I just needed somewhere to—” He doubles over with a groan of pain, almost bringing both of them down with him. She props him up again. “I thought you said you weren’t hurt.”

“I’m not.”

“But you’re hurting.” Reaper lets out a dry, wheezing grunt of a laugh. “Like you wouldn’t believe. Just let me sit down and leave me alone. It’ll pass, and I’ll be gone.” 

She doesn’t know what else to do. Usually there’s a little more threatening, and much less talking. With nothing left to try, she leaves him on the couch, heading quickly back to her room and shutting the door. He’s gone by the time she ventures out to make dinner.

A few weeks after that incident, there’s a knock at her door. She expects him to act as if last time had never happened, but she desperately wants to ask him about it. Today’s injuries look like electric burns, so she guesses she’ll be hearing about a fight between Overwatch’s Winston and Talon on the news tomorrow. To her surprise, Reaper is the first one to break the silence. “Well, go ahead. Ask.”

“What do you mean?” He turns to look at her, and she has the feeling that he has an eyebrow raised beneath that mask. “What do you think I mean? I was certain you’d have questions about my last visit.”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to ask.” Reaper grunts. “Then it’s your lucky day. Hurry, before I change my mind.”

So she does. His answers are short and vague, but start to help her piece together some answers. Something about an experiment, and how it turned him from a normal human to what he is now, trapped in a constant state of decay and pain. The patches of off-white, sickly skin that she can see through gaps in the armor suddenly make sense. Reaper continues, “I call what you saw an ‘episode’, which is just a time when the pain gets worse. I have no control over them, and they leave me almost too weak to function.” His voice is bitter, and the eyes of his mask are aimed pointedly away from her as he speaks.

“Then how did you get here?” He shrugs slightly. “I was in the neighborhood.”

“Why come here?” 

“Nobody else would know where I was. I’d prefer that none of my soldiers see me like that, and you know what would happen if you told someone about it.” The very thought of it makes her shudder, and she is suddenly very glad that his shotguns are holstered. As she finishes wrapping up the wounds, she says, “You’re welcome to come here during the next one, then.”

“You really think I wasn’t going to already?” Without thinking, she rolls her eyes before stepping back to let him stand. “I was being polite.”

They get back to their routine, interrupted once or twice a month by episodes. It mostly stays the same, but she notices some changes. He isn’t as gruff with her as before, even going as far as to attempt some small talk from time to time. They both know it was an empty gesture, but really it was the thought that counts. Things are almost back to normal, until the day she again hears something thud against her front door, but this time followed by a dull crash and a slight tremor in her floor. She hurries to the door as quickly as possible. As she reaches it, the sounds of weak, muffled cursing come from outside. When she opens it, she’s greeted by the sight of the Reaper, who apparently had collapsed right outside her door. When he speaks, his voice is strained. “Don’t just stand there!” She kneels down, helping him up into a sitting position, then slowly pulling him to his feet. This is the worst she’s ever seen him, and it worried her. She’s never worried about him before. As they walk to the couch, he doesn’t say anything, or make any noises besides the occasional groan of pain. She leaves him there, just as she usually does, retreating to her room. However, when she goes to make dinner, she realizes that he isn’t gone. He hasn’t even moved from the slumped position she’d left him in, and that same feeling of worry she’d had before returns in full force. “Are you alright?”

“What does it look like?” Each word is forced out of him, punctuated by a wheezing breath. “What can I do to help?”

“Leave me alone.” Usually she’d follow that request, but tonight seems different. He hasn’t even moved his head to look at her, or raised his hand to wave her off. Her eyebrows furrow with concern. “Reaper, can you move?”

His silence is the only answer she needs before she sits next to him on the couch. “Can I at least help you get into a more comfortable sitting position.” He’s still quiet, but it feels more thoughtful than bitter. “Fine.”

She’s surprised, but pushes it aside for the moment. “Ok, tell me what to do.” His next words are slow, almost hesitant. “Help me get the jacket off. I might be able to move without it.”

He never takes any of the gear off. She realizes it must be bad for him to be resorting to this. “Got it. Any buckles or straps I need to look out for to get it off?” 

“No.” She looks the long leather coat over, trying to find the best way to remove it. “I’ll have to push the hood down first.”

“Just get on with it.” She gently eases the hood back, grateful that the mask isn’t attached to it. The top of his head is covered by a mess of short dark brown and gray hair, interrupted in places by scars and burnt patches. She doesn’t really know what she was expecting it to be. Now for the rest of the jacket. She notices another problem. “I’ll need to take the gloves off too.”

“I said get on with it!” His tone is agitated, which is her cue to stop talking and just help. Careful of the claws, she pulls off both of his gloves. His skin is sickly underneath, and grayish brown in color. In some places, it looks almost like it’s rotting. She sets the gloves aside and gets back to the jacket. After a few minutes, the heavy coat is on the floor, and she’s left with a newfound respect for the Reaper’s strength. The jacket weighs much more than she would have expected. “Do you want me to help you with the boots and belts too?”

He manages a shrug. “Go ahead. Can’t hurt.” These are much more complicated, and take longer to remove, with Reaper occasionally giving directions when she gets stuck. Once she’s done with that, Reaper rests his head on the back of the couch. “That’s better.” 

He looks less imposing without all the gear. More human. She’d never gotten a good look at him without it. “Is the pain gone?” He shakes his head slightly. “Ok, then. I’ll leave you alone.” She walks to her kitchen, ready to do what she’d actually come out of her room for. As she starts to get out her own food, she realizes that she kind of has a guest. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“What?”

“Food. Do you want some. Do you eat? I mean, I’ve never—” He cuts off her babbling. “Broth would be fine. Tea works too.”

“Broth. Tea. Got it.” She gets out the extra stuff for both of those, including three mugs. Tea sounds pretty good to her too. “Sugar or milk in the tea?”

“No.” She brings him a mug of tea and a bowl of broth. He takes them, and puts them down on the coffee table, reaching up to his mask to push it away from his mouth. She looks away and retreats back to the kitchen, where she eats her own dinner. As she eats, she finds herself wondering what his face looks like under that mask. It isn’t the first time she’s thought about it, but it is the first time she’s had as much information about what he looks like in the first place. “You can come back now.” She looks back into the living room to find the Reaper looking back at her from the couch. “Oh, right.”

She walks back again, and grabs his empty mugs from the table, and turns back to where she came. “Thank you.” Those two words stop her in her tracks. For a moment, she’s unsure she heard him right. “What was that?”

“I said ‘Thank you.’ Usually, the proper response is ‘You’re Welcome.’” There’s a tone to his voice that she’s never heard before. It’s almost like amusement. First a thank you, then a joke. What is the world coming to? “You’re welcome, Reaper.”

He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. After a few minutes of silence, he speaks again. You have a name, right?” She raises her eyebrows. “What? My name? Um, I mean—”

“Just spit it out.” He still sounds amused. “It’s (Name).”

“Then thank you, (Name).” She can’t figure out what he’s doing, so she just tries to steer the conversation back where they usually are. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” He gets up and starts to put his gear back on. When he’s done, she expects him to walk to the door. Instead, he walks over to the window, which she propped open that morning. “Until next time, (Name).” Then he’s gone. He wraith-formed out the window. (Name) walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, trying to process what had just happened. She manages to convince herself that this was a fluke, and that everything will go back to normal by his next visit.

But things have already changed. As his next few visits come and go, she realizes she’s grown fond of him, and it seems he’s grown fond of her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Songfic time! As I mentioned in the last chapter, the song inspiring this chapter is Stand By You, by Rachel Platton. Enjoy!

From that moment forward, things in their interactions continue to change with each passing visit. On one such occasions a few months later, he came back almost as bad as before. (Name) helped him out of his armor, letting him rest on the couch. She stood at the counter, feeling as if she were forgetting something important. He turns his head so his mask met her gaze for a moment and she remembers the clothes she had bought him last week. She hadn’t been sure if they’d fit; after all she could only guess his measurements. “Oh, um, Reaper?” He gives a grunt of acknowledgement. “I got you something. Hold on.” She runs to her own room, and grabs the small stack of clothes; sweats and a hoodie. (Name) hurries back to present them to him. “I bought you some casual clothes, just in case you wanted to wear something more comfortable.” The second the words are out of her mouth, she feels stupid. “You don’t have to, I mean—” (Name)’s stuttering is cut off by a wheezing laugh. “(Nickname), if you want to get a closer look all you have to do is ask.”

She feels her face turn bright red, the heat on her cheeks almost unbearable as the man in front of her has a fit of uncontrollable laughter. However, as she looks over his broad shoulders and arms, she has to admit she’s a little curious. (Name) immediately derails that train of thought, reminding herself that he’s just kidding. The teasing is a recent development in their relationship, and definitely one of her least favorites. Well, most of the time, anyways. “Just give me the clothes.” She looks at him, a little surprised. “You heard me. Give me the clothes.”

“Do you need me to help you to the bathroom?” He shakes his head. “Just go to your room like you usually do. I’ll call you when I’m decent.”

(Name) hands him the clothes and walks to her room, sitting in her bed to wait. After almost fifteen minutes, the muffled sound of “You can come back now” reaches her ears. She returns to the living room to find the Reaper slumped back on the couch in his new clothes, trademark mask still in place. “Don’t just stand there. Sit down.” Another new development in their relationship is that he likes to have her stay with him while he waits out the pain. He insists that the company and conversation helps him keep his mind off of it. (Name) sits down on the other side of the couch, careful to give him space.

They sit in silence for a while, neither willing to speak first. Finally, (Name) asks, “Do you want some tea?”

“Sure.” She nods and gets up again, heading to the kitchen to start on the tea. She heats up the water, and gets out the tea bags while she waits for the water to boil. However, as (Name) goes to get out the mugs, a worrying sound reaches her ears, a groan of pain almost close to a snarl. She quickly whips her head around to see him convulsing on the couch, finally curling up into a fetal position. She turns off the stove and immediately hurries over to his side, kneeling next to the couch. “Are you alright?”

“Why do you always ask that?” His voice is angry, but it seems more like a cover than true rage as he turns away from her. “Just leave me alone.” She almost listens to him, almost follows their normal routine. But this time (Name) doesn’t want to back down. “What else am I supposed to do? You never tell me what’s wrong with you! If you want my help, I’ll need you to tell me what to do.”

“I think you’re forgetting how this works. You listen to me, and I don’t kill you.” She snorts. “I bet you can’t even stand up right now, let alone make it to where you always leave your shotguns.”

“I don’t need my shotguns.” The threat would be terrifying, but he doesn’t put any weight behind it. It’s the last straw for (Name), who is just sick of this strange, twisted relationship. “For goodness sake, just let me help you!”

He’s quiet for what seems like an eternity, and she almost gives up and leaves when the silence is broken by a quiet “Fine.” For once, she doesn’t ask him to repeat himself. She reaches out and pushes his hood back. His posture stiffens. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t do anything to take away the pain, but I can at least try to help you calm down. Can you sit up a bit?” To her surprise, Reaper complies to her request, sitting up and moving forward enough to give her space to sit down as well. She moves into that spot, turning slightly to rest her shoulder against the back of the couch. “Ok, you can lean back again.” He does, but the second his back touches her, he starts forward again. “Relax, I’m not going to do anything.” Reaper leans against her again, letting himself slide forward enough to lean his head back on her shoulder. She can still feel how tense he is, but he relaxes a little. (Name) realizes that he must not spend much time this close to another person. He often mentions his detachment from the other people in Talon, most of whom he refers to as his ‘troops’. “Is this ok with you?”

“Yeah.” There’s something different in his voice, something she hasn’t heard before, even over all of the months she’s know this man. She realizes it’s sadness, almost like he’s crying. They sit like that for a while. She can feel each wave of pain that passes through him, seeing his fist clench with each one. After the seventh or eighth time, she makes a decision, reaching out with her free hand and putting it on top of his. The skin is rough and cold, the surface of it puckered by abrasions.

 

_Hands, put your empty hands in mine_

 

He stiffens slightly, but turns his hand over so her palm rests on top of his own. The skin there is rougher, but not by much. She can feel callouses instead of scars. (Name) gently removes her hand, and lifts it up to the top of his head, running her fingers through his hair and over the scars and burns there. Her fingers bump into the band holding his mask to his face, and he immediately jerks away. “Wait!” He half-turns to look at her. “I’m sorry. Just… just relax. I won’t take it off. Besides, it’s not like I’d tell anyone if I did.” She tries to smile, hoping that the joke might help bring his guard down. Reaper tilts his head to the side in a way that she recognizes as him being thoughtful. “That’s true.”

“What is?”

“You wouldn’t tell anyone.” His voice is still strained and choked up. She still doesn’t understand what he’s talking about, but his next words make it clear. “I could use some fresh air.” He lifts one hand to the back of his head and presses the other to the front of the mask. Then she hears a click, and her heart starts going a mile a minute. She’s scared and excited and curious all at the same time as he gently removes the mask from his face.

The first things she notices are the gashes that cover most of his face, interrupted his oddly colored skin. Some are fresh, other are deeply scarred. The second thing is his eyes. The parts that should be white are almost gray, and the iris are dark red. They’re also glassy with tears. His expression is bitter and twisted with pain.

They stare at each other for a few minutes, and (Name) reaches up towards his face, wiping away the tears. He speaks first. “Hideous, I know.” His voice is different without the mask. It’s much more human, and a lot less terrifying.

“Actually, I was going to say that I like your eyes. They’re unique.” She feels stupid. “Sorry, that was—” He interrupts her by leaning forward and letting his forehead rest against her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her.

(Name) is startled, but returns the gesture, moving one hand back up to stroke his hair. She can feel her shoulder growing damp from his tears. “It’s ok. It’s ok. I’ve got you.” She rubs his back gently with her other hand 

They stay like that until he regains his composure, pulling away from the embrace. “Sorry.” The apology is blunt. Reaper shifts away from her. “Don’t apologize. I’m trying to help you relax and, if that helped, I don’t mind a bit.”

She sees the corner of his mouth turn up in a slight smile. “Why are you doing this?”

“I just told you—” He interrupts her. “Not what I meant. Why are you doing all the other stuff? You could’ve just left me here to deal with it alone. You didn’t need to make me tea, or buy me the clothes.  I’ve never done anything besides threaten you.”

 

_And scars, show me all the scars you hide_

 

“I’m not sure. Somewhere along the line, I started to care about you.” She leans forward and bumps her shoulder against his. “Some kind of Stockholm syndrome. I completely blame you for it.” He laughs softly, and she reaches out to wipe some more of the tears off of his face.

 “I don’t deserve it.” She doesn’t respond to that. Reaper shifts his seated position to be next to her again, almost close enough for their shoulders to touch, his hand resting next to hers.

“You know what I’ve done.” Again, she doesn’t respond, but she can hear the bitterness start to strain his voice again. He’s turned his face away from her

 “I—” His voice breaks, and his expression turns to one of disgust. She knows he hates the idea of people thinking of him as weak. She knows he doesn’t want to cry in front of her for the second time in as many minutes. But she also remembers the first time he came here during an episode, and how he implied that he found her apartment safe, even safer than on of Talon’s bases. She tugs him back over into a hug, and after a few seconds he rests his head on her shoulder again reluctantly.

 “You don’t have to be tough here. I’m not going to respect you any less for it.”

“You should.”

“But I won’t. Everyone has to have a breaking point. It makes us human.”

She looks down at her feet. “I know you’ve done awful things, but I also know that you’ve gone through horrible things too, without anyone to rely on.” Reaper lifts his head from her shoulder, and she turns to look him in the eyes. “I guess the point is that I want to be there to help you, Reaper.”

   
_Love, you're not alone, 'cause I'm gonna stand by you_ _  
_

 

“Gabriel.”

“What?”

“Just call me Gabriel. Or Gabe. Reaper sounds wrong.”

“It’s a nice name.”

“One I don’t use often. Sombra uses it to annoy me. Maybe you can balance that out.” His words are awkward, almost bashful. He seems like an entirely different person without the mask. (Name) is glad to have a different name to put with the changes. Gabe takes a deep breath, and his shoulders relax. “Would you mind if I stayed for a while?” She nods. “Sure, Gabe. Take as long as you need.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, I had to call in my amazing editor, coffee_crab, to do the heavy lifting when it came to writing (which is why this chapter is better than the others). If you like this, go check her out!

After a long day of work, (Name) walks into her apartment, where she’s greeted by the familiar sight of Reaper -- Gabe, since the mask is off -- on her couch. “Hey, (Nickname).” She smiles at him quizzically. “Hey, Gabe. How’d you get in here?” 

He stands, starting to take a step forward, then wraithes the rest of the way, rematerializing pressed against her. “You should really leave that window closed, (Name). Anyone could get in here.” His tone is amused and teasing. Definitely Gabe. Noticing his closeness, she tries to push him away from her, a faint pink dusting her cheeks. This does not go unnoticed by him, and, as Gabe steps back, a low chuckle escapes him. “Something wrong, (Nickname)?” She feels her face heat up, a lump in her throat. “N-no.” 

She pushes past him, trying to hide her quickly reddening face. “How about some tea?” He chuckles again as she rummages through the cupboards, trying to keep her cool. She realizes she left the mugs on the top shelf, and stands on her toes, feeling around the shelf for two mugs. She suddenly feels a pressure against her back and looks back to see him, an innocent smile on his face. She swallows as he grabs the mugs she had been looking for, and sets them on the counter, lingering there for a few moments longer before wraithing back to the couch. “You know how I like it.” 

She takes a deep breath, and makes the tea, calming down a little. She smiles as she walks over to the couch and sits next to him, handing him his mug. “So…” she pauses, trying to find her words. “Is there something wrong?” He takes the tea from her. “No.” She raises her eyebrow at him. “Then why are you here?” 

Gabe shrugs, taking a sip of tea. “What, I need an excuse to see you?” She feels her face flush, and quickly turns away, desperate to avoid his eyes. “Yes! I mean, no. I mean-- I don’t know.” He chuckles before taking another sip of tea, disguising the sly smile on his face. “You okay there, (Nickname)?” She looks back up at him, confusion etched into her features. 

She didn’t understand why he was acting like this. Their relationship had always been based off a routine. Consistency. This, whatever was happening now, was far from that, even farther than what had happened since the first time he took off the mask. “I-I’m fine. I’m fine.” She stands abruptly, walking back over to the kitchen, putting her untouched cup of tea on the counter. She can hear his deep laugh filling the space from across the room. “You don’t seem fine, (Name).” There’s another presence pressing against her back as he continues. “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” 

She swallows, unsure of how to deal with this new side of him. He chuckles low in her ear, causing an unwelcome shiver to go down her spine and her face to redden again. As quickly as he came over he’s back on the couch again. (Name) takes a shaky breath, which for reasons she can’t explain is more stable than the rest of her. “Re— Gabe are you sure you’re alright?” He laughs, shaking his head a bit. “Hardly. Come sit with me.” 

She makes her way over to him and sits beside him, an ample amount of space between them. A silence falls over them, the atmosphere shifting into something more comfortable as the time passes. She feels herself relax, noticing him stretch his arms along the back of the couch allowing his fingertips to brush against her shoulder. (Name) reflexively leans into his arm, staying there when he doesn’t pull away. 

“You don’t need an excuse to see me.” He looks over at her with a slightly smug smile on his face. “Glad to hear it.” 

She leans against his side, testing the waters to see if he’ll pull away. He doesn’t. “I… I actually like it when you just visit.” He stays quiet, allowing the fall back into a comfortable silence. She feels her eyelids go heavy after sometime, allowing them to close as she leans into him. 

She notices a shift and feels his arms wrap around her, picking her up. Still groggy, she tries to get his attention. “Gabe… where are we going?” He carries her down the hall to her bedroom and lays her down on the bed. “Your room. You need some sleep.” She grumbles a thank you, quickly taking a liking to the more caring side of him. He sits on the bed for a moment. “Go on, get out.” He scoffs. “Just what kind of a person do you think I am, (Name)?” She opens her mouth to reply, but is cut off. “Actually, don’t answer that.” He gets up and walks back to the door, chuckling. “Good night, (Nickname).” She’s already asleep. 

When she wakes again, (Name) gets out of bed, rubbing her eyes. When she walks back to the living room, he’s waiting on the couch, asleep. She smiles at the figure fast asleep on the couch. She makes her way over to the kitchen to get rid of her cup of tea that was now cold from the hours earlier. She walks over to the couch and decides to take advantage of the space between Gabe’s arm and his side, allowing herself to press against him. His arm reflexively wraps around her and she smiles. He stirs shortly after, grumbling a hello to her. She giggles. “Good morning to you too, you big softy.” He looks down and rolls his eyes at her. “Softy?” She shoots him a smug grin. “Yes.” He pulls his arm away from her, letting it fall over his face. “What’s that even supposed to mean? I’m terrifying.” She scoffs, standing to face him. “Yeah right. You came to visit me, drank tea, cuddled me and then fell asleep on my couch. Real scary.” He laughs. “Whatever you say, (Name).” He’s quiet for a moment before letting out a frustrated groan into his hands. Concerned, she kneels down so she can get a better look at him. “Gabe?” He looks down at her, almost angry. “I hate that I care about you. I shouldn’t let myself care about you.” She tilts her head in confusion. “What do you mean?” He raises his voice in an angry desperation. “What would happen if someone found out about you, (Name)?” She puts her hand on his face, forcing him to look at her. “It doesn’t matter what happens to me. There are others who can help patch you up. I’m really nothing special, Gabe, please don’t wor—.” 

It takes her a moment to process the feeling of lips pressed against hers. It was a sensation she hadn’t felt in a long time, and one that was nothing short of intoxicating. He pulls away, his hand now pressed against her hand on his face, holding it there for a moment. She stays silent for a few moments, her mouth hanging open slightly in disbelief, trying to process what had just happened. He releases her hand and moves it from his face, using it to pull her in closer to him. He leans in to whisper in her ear. “(Name)… you’re incredibly special. There is no one else who I trust more.” He moves back up to her lips, brushing his own over them for a moment. “But, Gabe, I—” 

She’s cut off for the second time by his cold lips moving against hers, and her stomach is flooded with butterflies that she can’t justify as he pulls back again. Gabe suddenly looks away, a look of guilt and nervousness written clearly across his face. She swallows, drawing up the courage to speak. “Gabe?” No response. “Gabriel?” He sighs, still looking away. “I forced myself on you… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ha—.” 

(Name) grabs his chin and turns him to face her, pressing her lips onto his. She can feel him tense in surprise, and she pulls away with a smug smile on her face. He’s smiling like an idiot, eyes ever so slightly unfocused. “Glad we’re on the same page, then.” He leans in to kiss her again, and (Name) finds herself feeling a way she hasn’t in a long time. Happy. Ever since that first day, everything about this, about them, has shifted and changed into something (Name) couldn’t even begin to explain. She comes to realize that, as their relationship continues to shift, and the routine continues to change, maybe she doesn’t mind it so much after all.


	4. A/N: Really Short, I Promise

Hello! Thank you for reading my story! I sincerely hope you enjoyed it! If you want to see any more Male Overwatch Character x Reader songfics from me, let me know! Also, if you do want to see more, comment character and/or song suggestions that you might be interested in!


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